


and i'll meet your eyes for the very first time

by revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)



Series: we live or die to take the throne [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Tirall Family Drama, Valkorion is the Actual Worst, Valkorion raises the Jedi Knight, and terrible self esteem, brief mentions of Thexan's enduring inferiority complex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/revanchxst
Summary: Vyl still remembers what it was like, six years ago, when he first arrived on Tython, Theron and Jaesa chivvying him forward the whole way to the Jedi Council chambers, a sack of Sith artifacts in his arms and intelligence stolen from Baras’ computers in his pocket and the desperate, painful hope in his chest that maybe the Jedi Order would accept him, that maybe for once in his life he’d get to have a choice. That maybe he wouldn’t have to be Sith any longer.It’s with that memory fueling him that he gets himself a tray of dinner and crosses the cafeteria to Thexan’s table. Theron should be getting off shift soon and coming to join him, but until then, Vyl intends to make sure the Alliance’s newest member doesn’t eat alone.“Hello,” he says lightly, setting his tray down on the table across from Thexan and sliding into the seat. “Do you mind company?”[or: a first meeting.]
Relationships: Male Sith Warrior & Jaesa Willsaam, Theron Shan/Male Sith Warrior, future Theron Shan/Male Sith Warrior/Thexan
Series: we live or die to take the throne [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2153424
Kudos: 4





	and i'll meet your eyes for the very first time

**Author's Note:**

> meet Vyl: https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/784679643777204235/810319678466424882/unknown-43.png he's my Sith Warrior, only he defects to the Jedi and is literally the Lightest person ever, honestly, he's an Actual Cinnamon Roll. for once, this fic is set directly after the previous one, and yes, the endgame ship is going to be Theron/Vyl/Thexan, they're _adorable_ together, it's a problem. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> title is from "sloom" by of monsters and men

The news is all over the Alliance by the time Jana lets Thexan out of the cell they’d kept him in. Vyltak Kivan, one of only two Jedi in Alliance high command, is all-too-intimately-familiar with the look on the former Eternal Emperor’s face now as he sits at a corner table in the cafeteria. Most of the Alliance soldiers, the Jedi and Sith, in the room aren’t outright staring at him, they have that much restraint at least, but the room is too-quiet and full of whispers and people keep glancing over at the corner Thexan is at, giving him a wide berth.

Vyl still remembers what it was like, six years ago, when he first arrived on Tython, Theron and Jaesa chivvying him forward the whole way to the Jedi Council chambers, a sack of Sith artifacts in his arms and intelligence stolen from Baras’ computers in his pocket and the desperate, painful hope in his chest that maybe the Jedi Order would accept him, that maybe for once in his life he’d get to have a  _ choice. _ That maybe he wouldn’t have to be Sith any longer.

It’s with that memory fueling him that he gets himself a tray of dinner and crosses the cafeteria to Thexan’s table. Theron should be getting off shift soon and coming to join him, but until then, Vyl intends to make sure the Alliance’s newest member doesn’t eat alone.

“Hello,” he says lightly, setting his tray down on the table across from Thexan and sliding into the seat. “Do you mind company?”

The look of utter confusion that crosses Thexan’s face would be both amusing and endearing if it wasn’t so achingly familiar. “I- no,” he says, slowly. “I don’t mind, though I’m not sure I can help you much, if you have questions. The Outlander asked me to report to one of her intelligence assets tomorrow.”

Vyl shrugs one shoulder, pokes his spoon into the bowl of stew and wrinkles his nose at the smell - the food here is unfortunately geared mostly to human tastes, not twi’lek, given that most of their members are currently human or near-human, and it’s plenty  _ edible, _ nutritious enough, but  _ Force _ if he doesn’t miss decent-tasting meals. “Jedi Knight Vyl Kivan, Alliance high command,” he introduces himself, narrows his eyes at a suspect vegetable. If the kitchen staff are letting Oggurob experiment with their gardens again… “I’m not actually here because I want anything, though - I wanted to welcome you to the Alliance.”

“Thank you,” Thexan says, bewilderment echoing into the Force, and Vyl gives up attempting to dissect the vegetable and just swallows a spoonful of soup. It tastes more like dirty water with chunks of sometimes-actually-palatable food in it, but at least it’s hot. (And the  _ human _ population of Odessen is certainly happy enough with the cooking.) “It took me a few weeks to find you, you’ve hidden yourselves well.”

“We have Lana and Theron to thank for that,” Vyl says, glances up from his tray to see Thexan watching him, blue eyes flickering with something like uncertainty. “Before Lana found Odessen, we spent months moving from planet to planet in the Outer Rim, trying to avoid Zakuul’s notice. Theron’s the one who developed our security systems during those years, kept us safe.”  _ Force, _ this soup is awful - at least the bread is good. “Theron should be getting here soon, actually, I don’t know if you’ve met him yet.”

“Only briefly,” Thexan says, finally actually starting to pick at his food. “He was in the hangar when I first landed - and I recognize his name, of course, he’s your spymaster.” He pauses, gives Vyl a more considering look. “What’s your position in high command?”

Vyl pauses, smiles sheepishly, rubs one hand along the markings on his forehead. “I’m sort of just- the one they leave in charge when they all go running off doing dramatics,” he admits, and Thexan’s eyebrows go up. “J’lima’s the Battlemaster, plus she keeps the  _ Wrath _ in check, Rheja is, well, Rheja,” and he waves a hand, vaguely; even when he was younger and served Baras alongside the  _ other _ Wrath, Rheja had always had a flair for the dramatic, even if she kept it under wraps better than most of the others, “and no one’s going to leave  _ Nine _ in command. And Lana and Theron have enough to do without having to maintain the rest of the Alliance as well.” He grimaces, adds, “And you’ve heard the reports about Jana - the Commander.”

“I’ve heard  _ some _ reports, yes,” Thexan says, and some of the discomfort and uncertainty around him is starting to dissipate, replaced by amusement. Which is good, Vyl was hoping he’d be able to relax. “I’m not sure if they’re the same ones you’re referencing.”

Vyl shrugs. “Does it matter? She’s brilliant, a little murderous, and runs off on her own at the slightest provocation, it’s fairly obvious in any report you could’ve seen.”

“She  _ did _ blow up the Spire,” Thexan says, a little thoughtful. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to follow someone you consider  _ a little murderous.” _

Which- he’s not wrong. Following a Sith in  _ general, _ other than Lana, had been a difficult decision to make, when Theron had told him about Lana’s successful operation on Zakuul, about her plans. But Jana was on Yavin and Ziost, faced down Revan and Vitiate and respected the coalition forces. She may have been a Dark Council member five years ago, but she’s  _ powerful, _ and Vyl stood on the field across from the Nautolan conqueror, Lia, felt her power and the way she wielded it, as easy and as deadly as the black and gold lightsaber she carries. He stood alone against an army of droids and Knights of Zakuul, the Jedi and Republic soldiers he was entrusted with leading falling and fallen around him, broken bodies and emptiness screaming into the Force, turquoise lightsabers clutched in bloody palms as he clung to shaky desperation and too many years as a Sith for a hope and a prayer of  _ survival. _ He fought on Tython, the closest place in the galaxy to his home, the only place he’s ever truly felt he  _ belonged, _ as skytroopers set fire to the fields and the Tythos river was choked with metal and death and a Fleet blocked out the sun.

They need power, if they’re going to defeat Zakuul, if they’re going to free the galaxy from the Throne. 

“She fought back,” Vyl says, a little more quietly than he means. “A little murderous or not, she gave us hope.” He sighs, toys with his spoon, the unappealing contents of his soup bowl abruptly safer to look at than Thexan’s face. “I fought on the front, during the invasion. The galaxy needs hope after what the Throne did.”

“Our father started the invasion,” Thexan says, equally quiet, something like shame filling the Force. “Lia and Arcann would never have let it end, and at least from the Throne I could be as fair as possible.” He hesitates. “If I hadn’t stepped up, one of them would’ve ended up dead.”

The remaining Tirall siblings might not be Sith, but they’re Darksiders, the gold eyes and the weight of them in the Force says that well enough. Vyl nods, unsurprised. Taking a Throne for five years just to try and mitigate the damage, just to try and do some good, just to try and keep the peace between his siblings - Thexan might just be a better person than half the Alliance.

“It’s an admirable reason,” Vyl says, looks up and meets Thexan’s eyes and holds them, as though maybe his sincerity could wash away that lingering shame and  _ guilt _ radiating from Thexan into the Force. “And what you’ve done - defecting is the bravest choice you could’ve made,” he says, knows even as he says it that Thexan won’t believe him. Who would? Vyl certainly hadn’t believed it himself, years ago - it’d felt too much like running away instead of changing things from the inside, instead of gritting his teeth and soldiering on. But not everything can be changed internally. “It takes a lot of strength to choose to walk away from everything you know, knowing there’s nothing you can do to make it better, and to throw your lot in with the unknown.”

“How do you know?” Thexan asks. “Maybe I just ran, left my siblings to their pain, instead of helping to fix the damage our father did to them.”

(It’s been two months since Rheja - the  _ Emperor’s Wrath, _ now - killed Darth Baras in front of the Dark Council. The moment the news reached Dromund Kaas, Vyl downloaded everything he could from Baras’ computers, filled a sack with his most precious Sith artifacts, took Jaesa and fled on board the ship Baras had given him back when his master first believed Vyl was worth something. It’s not like he can fly straight to Carrick Station or Coruscant or Tython - the moment he got near enough for his Fury-class ship to show up on their scanners, he’d get blown out of the sky - so he’s been planet-hopping ever since, attempting to stay ahead of the Sith hunting him down.

It’s not Rheja, thankfully - Vyl isn’t certain he could face the Sith who gave him Jaesa to train, the only one who never derided him for his utter inability to torture and his dislike of killing and the way he’s never,  _ never _ been able to reach for the Dark when the Light is so much warmer and brighter and more a comfort - just a few of Baras’ higher-ranked apprentices and allies who want back the artifacts he stole. He could fight them, could probably take them on with Jaesa at his side, but he  _ hates _ being forced to kill, even Sith, hates the way he can feel every light blink out in the Force, hates the knowledge that he  _ caused pain. _ (Baras had forced him to kill anyway, frequently, because there wasn’t much else he was good for, and he’s strong in the Force and skilled with his sabers, and Vyl hasn’t had a choice since he was a child and they burned a slave’s brand onto his chin, since the young master he served was Force-null and he was sent to Korriban in the boy’s stead, but he still wakes up sick from all the blood on his hands.)

“We should reach out to the Jedi, master,” Jaesa says, as they slip quietly through the rain-soaked, war-torn streets of one of the larger cities on Balmorra. Vyl hadn’t even been aware it rained on Balmorra, but apparently the Force or the universe or  _ something _ is out to make him as miserable as possible - that might not actually be that far-fetched of an idea, given his background, honestly. “If I got in contact with them, explained the situation, I’m sure they’d let us land on Tython.”

Jaesa has been trying to convince him to go to the Jedi since she first became his apprentice. Vyl  _ wants _ to, more badly than anything else - he still remembers Quorian Dolgis on Korriban, the Jedi the inquisitor ordered him to set free, the Jedi he told about the false information, the Jedi who told him  _ if only the Jedi had found you first. _ But he doesn’t know anything about the Jedi beyond what Jaesa’s told him, and given how long she’s been off their radar in the Empire, he’s not so certain they’ll just let her walk back in. Especially not if she’s bringing a  _ Sith Lord _ with her - he’d barely managed to get promoted to lord from apprentice, but it’d happened all the same.

And how could the Jedi ever accept him when he’s done so much to them?

“You disappeared two and a half years ago, Jaesa,” he tells his apprentice quietly, glances behind him to check for followers. There aren’t any that he can see or sense, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there, and there aren’t many people out in this rainstorm. “You’ve been with the Empire since then, you haven’t tried to make contact - they’ll probably assume you betrayed them.” He shivers as a gust of cold, wet wind slaps him in the face, lekku curling against his drenched cape.  _ Force, _ this is uncomfortable.

At least they only have to lay low here for a few days, hopefully, and then maybe they can head Coreward.

“The Jedi aren’t like that,” Jaesa says, swears under her breath as her boot lands in a puddle that splashes them both. “They’d listen to me, Vyl, I know it. And you’re the Lightest person I’ve ever  _ met, _ Lighter than a lot of the Jedi I knew - of course they’ll accept you.”

“You know how many Jedi Baras made me kill,” he says, tired, ducks his head and turns down an alley that should lead them closer to the hotel they’re staying at without taking them down more main roads; there aren’t enough people out for them to disappear into the crowd and he doesn’t want to be seen.

“You were forced into that, you didn’t  _ want _ to kill them.”

“Does it matter? I still did it.” Vyl shakes his head, frustrated. They’ve had this conversation before, and Jaesa’s never seemed to understand how it doesn’t  _ matter _ if he had a choice or not, there’s still all that blood on his hands. “Come on, let’s hurry up, I want to get out of this storm.”

“Going somewhere?” a modulated voice asks, and the Force hisses  _ danger _ and Vyl snaps out both teal lightsabers just in time to catch a red blade as a Sith leaps off a nearby building and comes crashing down at him. “Did you really think you’d escape us,  _ traitor?” _

Jaesa is already spinning to put herself at his back as another Sith lands behind him, and Vyl gathers the Force into his hands and shoves the Sith attacking him back, gains enough space to slip into a stance. And  _ Force, _ but he hates this, he doesn’t want to kill them, but what choice does he have?

It’s not a long fight. Worthless as he is to most of the Sith, Vyl is  _ good _ with his sabers, and when he pushes into an aggressive attack, the Sith he’s fighting doesn’t have a chance, not really. Vyl rarely fights to his true potential - the Sith have always underestimated him, in this at least, because of how much he hates to kill. But kill he can, and far too well.

When the Sith is dead on the ground in front of him (and it’s all he can do not to flinch as their Force-signature flickers out), he turns and steps up beside Jaesa, her double-bladed saber flashing and rain hissing into steam when it meets the blades, and he grabs onto the Force again to throw the last Sith away from them.

“Surrender,” he says, nearly pleading, and they just laugh behind the mask and cloak. “You aren’t going to win this, there’s no  _ point.” _

“I don’t want a traitor’s mercy,” the Sith spits. “You never should’ve made it off Korriban. You’re an embarrassment to the Sith Empire.”

Vyl closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. They’re making their choice, he  _ tried, _ he offered and they refused, he’s got no choice but to kill them (he never has a choice)-

There’s the sound of a blaster firing, and Vyl snaps his eyes open just in time to see the Sith collapse onto the ground, a charred hole in the back of their robes. And at the end of the alley, blaster raised, is a young man, brown hair and implants on his face and a red jacket. Vyl shifts into a defensive stance, warily, but the man just puts his blaster away, takes a couple steps forward.

“They weren’t going to surrender,” he says, “though it was an admirable effort.” He offers a lopsided smile, says, “Theron Shan, Republic Strategic Information Service. I heard you’re a traitor to the Sith.”)

Vyl shakes himself, just a little, offers Thexan a small smile. “I defected from the Sith six years ago,” he says, shrugs. “Thexan, it’s not your  _ responsibility _ to fix the damage he did to them, that’s something they have to do for themselves.”

There’s a familiar warm chuckle from behind him and Vyl is already turning to grin, a little sheepish, as Theron strolls up, tired but amused. “That’s some good advice,” he says casually. “You should follow it sometime.”

“Shut up,” Vyl mutters, fights an embarrassed flush crawling up his cheeks. Thexan is polite enough to hide his smile behind his hand, which Vyl appreciates. “We’re talking about Thexan, not about me, Theron.”

“I noticed,” Vyl’s boyfriend says, sliding into the seat next to him. “But you’re really impressively good at ignoring your own advice.” He nudges Vyl’s shoulder with his own, nods at Thexan. “Theron Shan, although I guess you probably already knew that.”

“It’s good to properly meet you,” Thexan says. “I appreciate the faith you and the Alliance are showing me.”

“You’re not the first defector we’ve had,” Theron says, “and even if you’re the highest-ranking one, we’re hardly going to turn you away. We need your help.”

“The Alliance takes  _ everyone,” _ Vyl says firmly. “We have since we started, and having a Sith as our commander now isn’t going to change that. J’lima and I aren’t going to let it.”

He’d joined the Alliance shortly after it was first formed, a few months after the Eternal Empire’s conquest was over, when it was just Theron and Lana and Rheja and a handful of others; after everything he’d done in the war, trying to stop the invasion, he hadn’t felt like he could go back to Tython. Theron had told him about their alliance, finding a way to fight back against Zakuul, and to find the Sith they’d captured, the one Lana so firmly believed would have a chance at victory. They hadn’t been anything official, back then, just a group of people determined to free the galaxy, and even if now they’re poised to be an actual power, acknowledged by both Republic and Empire, that same mindset  _ has _ to stay the same.

“Besides,” he adds, “you’re Lighter in the Force than most Jedi, it’s pretty obvious you aren’t going to start murdering like your siblings.”

“They can still be saved,” Thexan says, quickly, and though he’s steady there’s a flash of defensive worry and protectiveness in the Force around him.

Vyl smiles at him, a little lopsided. “Of course they can,” he says. He’s heard a little about Vitiate’s control from J’lima, and just even in this conversation, it’s obvious Valkorion left his mark on Thexan. The Tirall siblings were  _ raised _ by the Sith Emperor, Vyl can’t even imagine how awful that must’ve been what he must’ve  _ done _ to them - how is it a surprise they ended up like this? He doubts they ever had much of a choice, in what they’d be as people, and he intends to at least give them the chance to choose. If Jana will let him. 

Next to him, Theron makes a noise, but Vyl is focused on Thexan, who’s just-  _ staring _ at him, surprise radiating from him and naked on his face. “You… believe me?” he asks, and it twists something in Vyl’s chest, how  _ vulnerable _ he sounds, nearly.

Theron lets out a quiet chuckle, puts his hand over Vyl’s and twines their fingers together. “Vyl believes in everyone,” he says softly, fond. “He’d probably try to save the Emperor, if he could.”

Vyl gives Theron a sideways look. “No,” he says, firm, “some people deserve to just die, and I can’t believe I said that but it’s true about Vitiate.”

“Did you seriously just say we should kill someone?  _ You?” _ Theron is amused, and Vyl groans, can feel his face heating.

“I’m never saying it again,  _ Force, _ I hate you for making me say it.”

“You don’t hate anyone.”

Vyl mutters an insult in Ryl under his breath, looks back at Thexan.  _ “Anyway,” _ he says, “my point is - I’ll do what I can to help you save your siblings, Thexan. They deserve a chance to get out from Valkorion’s shadow.”

And the way Thexan smiles at him, for that - Vyl is going to do everything in his power to help Thexan get his family back, and to help him get free from his father. He  _ promises _ it, on every shred of determination that let him run from the Empire so many years ago.

Thexan Tirall will not be a slave to his past.


End file.
